The Moments In Between
by SilentLikeAShadow
Summary: All those moments we missed in between season 6 and 7, my version...
1. Prologue

_**Prologue: That scene from 6.22**_

Temperance Brennan's first conscience thought, after her sobs had started to subside, was that he smelled reassuring. Not only were his actions, his words, and his very _presence_ reassuring – he smelled that way, too. His scent had always been comforting – it was manly, composed neatly of aftershave and of a nice late spring day, with just a touch of cologne, or some man perfume of the sort.

He smelled so reassuring, so comforting, and so familiar she _almost _hated him for it. She didn't comment on how much she was enjoying it.

Her first full-formed feeling, however, was not an emotional one – it was, instead, the feeling of Seeley Booth's lips on her hair. Logically, she did what she had always done- she froze and immediately tensed.

Booth felt her go rigid in his arms and felt a brief sensation of his world caving in on itself. He immediately removed his lips from her head, and ceased the gentle rocking and murmuring he'd kept up for the past hour or so.

Brennan took note; a lump formed in Booth's throat.

"I – I- I'm sorry, Bones... I just... I – I thought..." Booth trailed off as she turned to look at him.

Brennan searched the eyes of the man she knew so well, feeling like she didn't really know him at all. His gaze had so much emotion she felt overwhelmed – yet the dominant one was _not_ love, but pain that mirrored and triumphed her own. Pain from Vincent's death. Pain from Hannah, still somewhat fresh. Pain from two years ago, from his little pushes and hints back then. Pain from when she admitted that she loved him, and there was nothing he could do. Pain that they'd distanced from each other.

Booth watched as she hesitantly searched him.

There was fear, too – fear they'd never grow back together. Fear everything was ruined. Fear he'd be rejected, now, again, left alone, and slight anger at her if she _were_ to this, now, again.

He pleaded with her, but he didn't need to. She lifted a shaking hand to his face, and pressed her index and middle fingers against his lips.

_It's alright._

Booth's eyes filled with tears. All the love, longing, and happiness he had been struggling to hold in finally hit the dam and broke through with the force of a tidal wave. The emotion he had held in for so long spilled over the top, to unheard of amounts. Not to mention his desire to an equally unbearable degree.

In the next instant his lips were on hers, and Brennan kissed back as hard as she could. She let him know she'd been _wrong_ – that she _could _change, that she _did_ love him with every inch of her being. Booth's heart raced more, if it was even possible, and he pushed her down onto the bed.

Brennan felt his growing need, and, since I'm sure you know how the story goes, they were soon one without second thought, and shared an indescribable experience before falling asleep, emotionally drained, in each other's arms, with absolutely no regrets.

Little did they know, their lives were about to change even more than they'd thought.


	2. There's Something I Need To Tell You

**This chapter focuses on Brennan trying to reveal to Booth that she's pregnant. She's very hesitant and keeps trying to find the right moment. The actual story, with my own arcs and plots, will start next chapter. But this was something we missed out on ;) enjoy! **

* * *

_She looked down at the small device in her hands, threatening to drop it because she was so shaky. She held her breath, waiting for the results._

_Positive._

_Same as all the others scattered across the bathroom floor._

* * *

Brennan rolled over; looked at her clock. 5 a.m. Good enough.

She got up out of bed and felt a wave of nausea – thankfully, it soon passed. She treaded lightly to her kitchen and checked her cell: nothing. She pressed down the unhappiness and guilt this brought down on her – Booth hadn't been too happy when she'd blown him off last night.

"_Want to go to the founding Fathers?" He said. It had been a long day at work._

"_No," Brennan dismissed the idea lightly._

"_Oh." He said, "My place?"_

_She met his eyes, asking to be forgiven. "Sorry, Booth, but if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone tonight. With everything that has happened-"_

_His face fell, but he nodded. "I understand," but his voice said he didn't, and he walked away without another word._

Brennan bit her lip. It really wasn't her fault! She had so much on her mind that she really just needed some time to think! She loved Booth, really, but...

"Yes?" Booth picked up on the second ring, voice groggy.

"Hi," she said hesitantly, apologetic to have woken him up.

He was, however, immediately awake. "Bones! Are you alright?"

"Yes, Booth, I'm fine. I was wondering..."

"Yes?"

"If you would like to go out to breakfast this morning?"

Booth was speechless. "Sure...?"

"Okay. See you at eight!" And then the dial tone. He stared at the phone in disbelief. Well, that had been... odd. But he smiled, and fell back asleep.

* * *

At eight, Booth honked outside. Brennan slipped on her light jacket and fled down the stairs. Booth got out and greeted her with a kiss. Brennan relaxed in his arms and kissed back. He pulled away, studying her face. Brennan looked away – she knew she had bags under her eyes – and Booth didn't comment. She figured he didn't need to ask – with that last case, he wasn't getting much sleep either.

They got into the car and drove to the diner. Booth ordered his usual, but Brennan only got a small fruit salad. He raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not hungry," She shrugged, and it was true. She didn't trust her stomach right now, with all its butterflies, and lately it had been upset quite often. She took a timid sip of water.

They small talked for quite a long time, about nothing important, really – the weather, Brennan's upcoming seminar, how Parker was doing. All the same, Brennan was barely paying attention. She had to say something, but she couldn't muster up the courage.

Their food arrived, and Booth dove right in. Brennan ate a little slower, watching him.

"What?" He got defensive. "I'm hungry."

"Nothing," She smiled, "You just happen to remind me of a Giant Anteater."

Booth stopped his rampage and gave her a quizzical look.

"The Giant Anteater uses its claws to rip open termite colonies and then uses its tongue to eat them all up. Much like what you're doing to this omelet."

"I think you meant pig." Booth offered. "Thanks, by the way."

Brennan's turn to look quizzical. "Pigs are very sanitary and intelligent creatures! And I wasn't trying to insult you; I just was making an observation..." She trailed off, as Booth continued to devour his plate. She chased a cantaloupe around her plate.

Booth wiped a napkin across his mouth. "Is it not good?"

"No, it's fine, really." Brennan replied and ate a pineapple to prove her point. Booth didn't seem convinced.

"You sure you're all right, Bones?"

Brennan hesitated, wondering what to say. Might as well take the plunge. She flirted her gaze up to his, and the concern and fondness she was greeted with gave her confidence.

"I- _" _Suddenly she didn't feel so good. A wave of nausea swept over her and she started to gag.

"Bones? Bones!"

She tried to get up, and immediately Booth was by her side, supporting her. Together, they quickly made their way to the bathroom.

Without second thought, Booth pushed open the door to the women's with his shoulder. Brennan stepped away from him and managed to make it to a toilet before she started vomiting. She took deep breaths and was aware of someone holding back her hair as she retched.

When it passed, she turned around and faced a very worried-looking Booth. He searched her face and let her hair drop to her shoulders, tucking a loose strand behind her ear as it dislodged. She closed her eyes and smiled faintly.

"Remind me not to eat their pineapple again."

* * *

After a lot of convincing that she was fine, Brennan managed to persuade Booth to drop her off at the Jeffersonian. Of course, he was very hesitant, and the spell of nausea had unsettled them both.

The current case required a lot of undercover work, and seeing as the bowling team had nothing on today, Brennan hoped to examine the bones again and be productive.

Unfortunately, she was almost certain this would not happen. Her mind kept drifting. She was, by good odds, pregnant. It had started only a few days after the Broadsky case – the constant nagging about how that night hadn't exactly been 'safe'. She had also felt... Different. It was hard to explain, but when she hadn't believed the first test and bought more all with the same result... She was at a loss.

She _felt _lost, and bewildered. She and Booth had only been together for a few weeks, and they were still dancing around each other, because it was complicated! Things were complicated, let alone bringing in a baby...

It was irrational, but Brennan couldn't bring herself to tell him. She simply couldn't. A part of her was scared he'd reject her or would find this all moving on too fast. After all, that's how she felt. But Booth was Booth, and fearing telling him was ridiculous, but...

Now Brennan was at the lab, supposed to be working, which was impossible. Her mind kept drifting off to the pregnancy, and her and Booth's new and fragile relationship. She was staring off into space when Angela walked in.

"Hey sweetie," The artist greeted. Brennan blinked at the papers and shook her head as if to clear it, coming back to reality. She looked up at Angela with confused eyes.

"What's wrong?" Angela asked.

"Nothing..." Brennan started, and Angela cocked a disbelieving eyebrow.

"Nothing you can help me with," Brennan said miserably.

"Is there something wrong with you and Booth?"

"No, no, we're fine. It's just a little complicated, being a new couple."

"I know. It'll pass." Angela soothed.

Brennan appeared to contemplate this. "Angela, can I have a hug?" She asked, rather shyly. Angela's eyes lit up with surprise but her heart reached out to her friend. It was clear something was distracting Brennan, but she would wait and let Brennan come to her. After all, the scientist just _asked_ her for _a hug_.

"Of course," Angela sat beside her on the couch and wrapped her arms around her best friend. Brennan closed her eyes and hugged back, sighing shakily, and there the two best friends sat, enveloped in the supportive arms of each other.

* * *

Brennan found it a little easier to concentrate after that, and she managed to get a good amount done by the time Booth appeared in her office. Actually, she was so absorbed in the papers in front of her that she didn't notice him. He didn't mind; he leaned against the doorframe and watched her. She had her in-the-zone face on; those big eyes intent on nothing else but the task at hand. He smiled. Their chemistry hadn't changed much – it'd only been a month or so, after all. In any case, there were small things Booth could now do, such as watching her work without her knowing he was there, which would've been uncomfortable before.

Eventually he moved towards her and she heard the quiet thuds of his footsteps. She flickered her gaze up to him quickly before returning it to her desk, her stomach doing a little flip. Ever since she'd found out about _it_, she'd been more than a little awkward around him.

Booth placed both hand on her desk and leaned over her, tie brushing the edge of the documents. Brennan felt her stomach twist again; she peered up at him tentatively. He met her gaze with affection, and she felt a lump form in her throat. He cocked an eyebrow at the distant look in her eyes, and she quickly swallowed, turned her eyes to the ground, and wheeled the chair away from him. Booth frowned slightly, stepping around to meet her as she rose from her chair. Brennan continued to stare at the floor, and the next thing she knew she'd walked into his arms. She stiffened for a split second before relaxing into him. He repeatedly ran a hand through her hair, and Brennan exhaled. She dug her face into the crevice of his shoulder and neck. He held her steady, leaning his cheek against the top of her head.

After awhile Brennan stepped back, and Booth held onto her shoulders. He searched her eyes. She took a deep breath. Might as well tell him now.

"Booth," she started, tone of all seriousness, "There's something I need to tell you." Her voice was quiet in the safety of her own office. Booth's ears perked up and she had his complete and utter attention.

Brennan's confidence wavered a bit, still hesitant. "I might-"

The phone rang out just then, and annoyance flooded through her veins, but relief came soon after.

She shot him an apologetic look and he nodded. She picked up the receiver.

"Dr Temperance Brennan, Forensic Anthropologist, Jeffersonian Institute."

"Hi, Dr Brennan, It's Dr North calling about your scheduled pregnancy test."

"What about it?"

"It was supposed to be more than an hour ago."

Brennan's eyes flashed over to the clock. The doctor was right – she'd been here with Booth much longer than it had felt.

"You're right, I'm so sorry! Would it be alright if I came by now?"

"Lucky for you, you were the last patient for today, so I will allow it." Apparently the desperation and urgency in her voice had worked.

"Thank you! I'll be right there."

Booth was looking at her expectantly as she hung up. "New improvement on the case?"

Brennan shook her head, searching for her car keys. She then realized she'd taken a lift from Booth this morning...

"Darn," She said under her breath.

"Everything alright?"

She sighed. "Yes." A pause. "Can I ask you a small favor?"

"Of course."

"Could you drive me to the, er, hospital?"

Booth's eyes bulged, and he stared at her. "Bones..."

"It's just a checkup, Booth," She said quickly, cutting him off. "Honestly, there's nothing to worry about." She avoided his gaze.

He narrowed his eyes. "Alright."

"Thank you." To show her gratitude, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

* * *

Hours later found Brennan alone at home, curled up on the couch, calmly sipping tea. Her mind raced, and she tried to organize her thoughts.

_Thought: I have gotten the pregnancy test over with. My emotions on the subject: relief and uncertainty._

_Thought: I am now waiting for the doctor to call with the results. My emotions on this subject: anxiety._

_Thought: I still haven't told Booth. My emotions on the subject: guilt, and nausea, physically._

_Thought: Booth. My emotions on this subject: ..._

This way of proceeding was getting her nowhere. Still, Booth needed to be told, and Brennan was uncertain if she'd ever find the right moment to do so.

Just then he called.

"Brennan."

"There's a new lead," Booth went on to explain.

"So you'll come pick me up?" She asked when he'd finished.

"Yeah." He paused. "Bones?"

"Yes?"

"That thing you wanted to tell me?"

Brennan inhaled slowly, forming her answer.

"All in good time, Booth. All in good time..."

* * *

**And she did find the right time, at the conveniently inconvenient time in the last scene of a season finale... **

**Anyway. The next week is going to be slightly hectic, so saying assuming a weekly update should be safe. Ish.**


	3. Prove It

**Sorry! I planned to get this up last Friday, which didn't happen because of my wrist getting injured (firstly) and then my eyesight being severely compromised (secondly).**

This time when she awoke, a week later, Brennan felt a wave of satisfaction creep over her skin. She opened her eyes to Booth's dark bedroom; that same man was now protectively curled around her. She let herself simmer in her contented state for a moment before starting her day. Booth snored softly beside her; Brennan let the heat coming off of him sink into her own exposed body. She pressed her cold feet against his warm calves. He frowned and distanced himself slightly from her but didn't wake. Brennan grinned at her victory and, since liberated, slipped out of bed.

She made her way across the messy bedroom floor in the dark – his tie here, her nylons there – and so forth. When she had made it to the door silently – victory number two – she glanced back at her sleeping partner. Her eyes drifted from his messy hair to his peaceful, relaxed face and finally to the steady rise and fall of his muscular chest. Brennan's heart softened at the sight, and she exited the room, shutting the door without a hint of a sound.

Her purse was on the table at his entrance, in it she had put an extra pair of clothes. She replenished this every time she was at home and felt herself growing slightly more frantic each time she lost track of another shirt.

She changed and applied her makeup in his bathroom, and then hailed a cab to the lab. She immediately headed to the coffee machine, realizing as she grinded her teeth together that she hadn't brushed them this morning. She made a mental note to buy a second toothbrush as soon as possible.

The first sip of coffee was so delightful that she closed her eyes in bliss and subsequently did not notice Angela as her friend entered the room.

"You look like you want to inhale that coffee," the artist greeted. Brennan's eyes flew open and she acknowledged Angela with a smile.

"I'm exhausted," she admitted, taking another sip. Angela made her way to the refrigerator, smirking.

"Up with Booth all night?" She teased, pulling out the cream and shutting the door in time to see Brennan's blush.

The anthropologist could feel herself burning up. "No, that's not…" Upon the disbelieving cocked eyebrow she received, Brennan reformulated her sentence. "All right," she relented. "He's pretty good. Amazing, actually." She winked. Angela grinned.

"So why are you up so early?" Brennan diverted the attention from herself. Angela's grin faded, her eyes grew tired.

"Michael Vincent refuses to sleep through the night. I eventually just decided to come in early and left Hodgins up to his own defenses."

Brennan's interest grew. _One_ _day soon, that'll be me and Booth._ The thought sent waves of excitement and nervousness through her being. Of course, Angela didn't know about the baby yet, and the artist remained the only one to know about the relationship.

"Do you have anything for me?" Angela brought Brennan back from her thoughts, referring to the current case.

"We know her name was Maria Ditcofsky from dental records." Their latest victim had been found in the dumpster of an alley in Georgetown. She had been killed less than 48 hours before arriving at the lab yesterday. So far Brennan had found trauma to the temple, which was most likely cause of death. Booth was to inform the relatives today. "Can you hack into her cell phone? It was found on her, it should provide to be useful." Angela nodded and left; Brennan then finished her lavished coffee and got to work, too.

She was examining the clavicle when a disgruntled Booth came in.

"Bones!" He exclaimed. Only Brennan's eyes moved, and the rest of her remained completely immobile. She lost interest in the agent and continued to examine the clavicle.

Booth raised his eyebrows and put one hand on his hips.

"I get the impression you're upset." Brennan stated as she gently replaced the bone and picked up the skull.

"Yeah, just a little!"

She still didn't look at him. "I am confused as to what is the cause."

Booth stared at her. "Oh, I don't know, how about waking up to your girlfriend absent without a note or any indication as to where she had gone."

She finally glanced over at him. "I figured you'd think I was at the lab, which is reasonable since it's nine in the morning on a Tuesday."

Booth sighed. "Still, Bones, you should at least write a note."

"Why?"

"So I don't start all my days scared to death, not knowing where you are and having no indication that you were even there."

"I was clearly-" Booth cut her off with one tilted eyebrow. Brennan shifted her weight.

"Fine. I will make sure to let you know. But I obviously wasn't leaving; I still have numerous items at your apartment. My cell is on, too."

Booth stepped closer, studying her lips. "I know, I just get concerned sometimes, after Broadsky, and now with…" He trailed off, placing his hands on her hips so that his palms rested on her belly.

Brennan shivered, unsure if it was because of his words or his touch or both. His lips were tantalizingly close; before she knew it she was leaning in. She immediately put her hands on his chest and stepped away. They had made a mutual agreement to not act like a couple at work.

"It would also be nice if you made coffee," Booth whined. "And if you weren't always gone before I wake up. It would be nice to have you next to me in bed in the morning."

Brennan glanced around; no one was near. She flashed him a warning with her eyes before grinning.

"But then we'd never get up."

He smiled back and before she could do anything, he had her in his arms and placed a slow kiss on her lips. She relaxed; felt herself melting in his arms as she did every time. She allowed the kiss to go on for a few seconds before pulling away.

"No, we really need to work," she said matter-of-factly, staring up at the innocent brown eyes. She adjusted his collar and he didn't resist when she stepped away and turned to the bones.

Booth remained in place but followed her gaze. "As I told you before," she started, "there is an obvious penetrating trauma to the temporal bone. Angela suggested something about a half of an inch by seven eights of an inch for the murder weapon. After my own analysis, I agree."

"Probable cause of death, then?"

"I would say yes, probable cause of death, as I have found nothing to contradict that, save some post-mortem fracturing."

Booth was about to say something when Angela walked in; a glance was shared in between the two friends, and Booth greeted Angela rather awkwardly. The artist smiled to herself – they were too cute.

"I have something for you. As I was going through her phone, I found the following outgoing text: _'That's right bitch, I'm doing with Brian what I never could have done with your sorry little ass'_." Angela raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like an ex-boyfriend situation if I've ever heard of one. It was sent to an Alex Miele."

"Thanks," Booth said, and Angela nodded and left. Brennan turned to him.

"You talked to the fiancé?"

"Yeah, he was devastated. Sweets agrees; there's no way it's him."

"I take your word for it."

They both paused, and Booth's face lit up. "How about some lunch, and then we go talk to this Alex Miele?"

Brennan smiled, and Booth offered his arm.

Across the hallway in her own office, where she could see them, Angela grinned.

* * *

At the diner, Booth and Brennan took their regular table. They talked their regular too – casework, casework, and more casework.

"Sweets profiled our victim; she's apparently our typical ditz, for lack of a better word."

"What makes him say that?"

Booth shrugged. "Who knows, ask him. But I agree, from questioning the fiancé, they seem to want this unrealistic, dramatic lifestyle."

"I don't know what that means."

He sighed, "I mean their lifestyles don't really have any purpose besides getting on top of the latest trend and gossiping about what happened at the last party."

Brennan nodded slowly. "Alright. I think I get it. So we're off to look up this Alex Miele guy?"

"Yeah. He has a history, too, nothing all that major, though – shoplifting, threats…"

"Sounds like a pleasant guy."

Booth smiled at her. "Yeah, and maybe he'll get to add murder onto that pretty little list. Ready to go?"

She nodded. They paid and left. At the car, Booth halted Brennan. As always, she went rigid under his careful touch; her breathing hitched as she realized the closeness of his face to hers. Tentatively, she looked up at those warm brown eyes.

"You coming over tonight?" He asked quietly. She swallowed and nodded. She could feel his negativity as he let go and stepped around to the other side.

"Is something wrong?" She asked as they pulled away from the curb. Booth shook his head, but after a moment he spoke.

"It's just I feel it's always me coming after you." Brennan was confused, and stared at him so. This irritated him slightly.

"Since we've been together, you haven't invited me over, or called me to go out. You always seem so surprised when I do; I'm starting to get the impression that I'm annoying you."

She blinked. "What? No! You know that's not true! And you've been over!"

"Yes, when I show up at your door and you invite me in."

Brennan sat back. "You don't annoy me. I like you very much!"

Booth's eyes, though still on the road, softened, as did his voice. "I know, Bones, but you need to show it."

She frowned, deep in thought. Why _did_ she get so flustered when he touched her, so choked up when they were close? It was Booth, the same Booth; the Booth that had been right next to her for years. She would prove herself to him, because not having him where he had always been was not an option.

* * *

This Alex Miele had an alibi – he'd been at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. "Otherwise, he would've been my guess," Booth had said on the subject. But Miele's alibi was foolproof for the time of the murder, which Hodgins had narrowed down to within a span of hours. Miele had given them a lead, though – a certain Josephine Rosenthal. Booth and Brennan tidied up at their respective workplaces and went home to Booth's apartment. There, they ordered in Chinese and ate it while discussing the case and watching hockey, later on, they left the game and food and made a hasty retreat to the bedroom. After they had made love, Brennan felt contented in Booth's arms, to a certain point. It was only after he drifted off that she could put her finger on what was wrong – she still hadn't proved her affection towards him, and she had the not-so-crazy notion it would take something more than unbelievably good sex.

The next morning, when Booth woke up, there was coffee on the counter and a note on the table. Brennan was at work; this didn't surprise him. He retrieved his cell and dialed.

"Brennan."

"Hey, Bones. I was going to question this Josephine Rosenthal, would you like to come along? I'll pick you up in a half hour."

"Okay, I'll be here."

"Oh, and thanks for the coffee."

Booth was true to his word, and half an hour later Brennan crawled into the van. Rosenthal lived in Georgetown, and the traffic to get there wasn't so bad that particular morning.

"Josephine Rosenthal?" Booth asked the woman of small stature as she opened the door.

"Call me Jo, please. What would you like?"

"I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth and this here is my partner, Doctor Temperance Brennan." Booth flashed his badge. Jo stepped aside to let them enter the townhouse.

She was a small girl, with a head of soft auburn hair and perky green eyes.

"What happened?" She asked, gesturing for them to sit down.

"Maria Ditcofsky was found murdered a few nights ago," Brennan blurted.

Booth shot her a glance. "I'm sorry," he said gently, "I understand you two were friends?"

Jo clasped a hand over her mouth, but her eyes flashed at his last words. Booth noticed.

"Well, she was, before she turned into a sniveling bitch."

"Whoa, okay. What happened?" Booth asked as Jo watched Brennan, who apparently grew bored and started wandering around the room – Booth knew what she was looking for.

"We were very close before. I told Mer, that's what I call – er, _called_ – her, everything. I had hooked up with this guy –" When Booth raised an eyebrow, she added in some details. "- Named Zach Potvin. It was a big mistake, and I ended up getting pregnant from that lame one-night stand. Mer was the only one who knew, and then I got an abortion. When I had hooked up with Alex just after Mer broke up with him, she went insanely mad and told everyone. So, no, we are not friends – er, _were_ – not friends."

Booth and Brennan shared a look. "So you didn't like her?"

Jo snorted. "Would you?" She then realized what his sounded like and quickly added, "But I didn't kill her."

"Give me one good reason to believe you."

Jo paled, but before she had the chance to reply, Brennan called out.

"Yeah?" Booth answered his partner.

"The high heels of these whose are perfect for the murder weapon." Brennan returned to his side, staring at Jo.

"You have no right!"

"Oh, but we will. Have a nice day, Miss Rosenthal." He gave her a shiny smile and left with Brennan in tow.

"Someone has relationship issues…" He muttered.

Outside, he stepped into place beside Brennan. He slipped his hand around hers. "Good job," he whispered.

Brennan, startled by the touch, glanced down hesitantly at their joined hands. She concluded, though, that it felt nice and allowed him to hold her hand until it was necessary for them to let go.

* * *

Booth had no trouble getting the warrant and soon the FBI forensics team was busy recovering each pair of shoes and checking for blood. As this happened, Booth and Brennan went for an early lunch and enjoyed some afternoon delight. They were in the act of getting dressed when Cam called.

"Brennan."

"It's Cam. Is Booth with you?"

"Yeah," she glanced at him, who raised an eyebrow while pulling on his pants. "I'll put you on speakerphone."

"Every single one of Rosenthal's shoes was clean and accounted for. It wasn't her."

"Then we're nowhere," Booth said, putting on his belt.

"Not true. Angela found the following message on the victim's phone." Cam clicked a button, and a recording came through the line. "_'You better back off, it's mine.'_"

"I stand corrected."

"What is the object they are talking about?" Brennan asked.

"No idea – Sweets is calling in the sender, a Zoe Selleck, to FBI headquarters now."

"Thanks, Cam." Brennan flipped shut the phone; Booth looking at her expectantly. "Let's go."

* * *

Sweets was waiting for them. "The FBI team got a hold of Selleck's apartment; Hodgins just called, Ditcofsky's blood was on one of them."

"So it's her?"

"We just need a confession. Hopefully she doesn't ask for a lawyer," Sweets confirmed.

"Thanks," Booth said, gesturing for Brennan and Sweets to listen in the adjoining room. They watched as Booth entered and sat in front of Zoe Selleck, not speaking.

Brennan studied the perpetrator –long blond hair, silver earrings. She seemed nervous.

"Why am I here?"

"I'm sure you know," Booth leaned back. Selleck stayed quiet. He pulled out the high heel shoe; the woman cringed.

"You recognize the weapon you used to kill Maria Ditcofsky, don't you?"

Defiance flashed through her eyes. "I didn't- "

He put the shoe forcefully down on the table, causing Selleck to jump. "Aw, cut the bullshit. I have a team compiling evidence against you as we speak."

She swallowed.

"Why'd you do it?"

She hesitated.

"Just tell me, it's already over."

Zoe crossed her arms. "She stole the engagement ring I wanted. It was so pretty, you don't even understand!" She whined. "She came over, and we got drunk, and I thought I would pay her back by giving her a black eye for her wedding day."

"But you missed and hit her temple, killing her instead."

"I was scared. Me and Joey – my fiancé – brought her outside and put her in the dumpster. It was an accident!"

"Putting her in a dumpster and not calling 911 was an accident?" Disgust was clear in his voice. "I'm placing you under arrest for the murder of Maria Ditcofsky…" He cuffed her, looking at Brennan through the glass, rolling his eyes. Though Booth couldn't see her, he could imagine her nod.

Sweets turned to Brennan. "I'll get this Joey guy; you can call it a day."

"Thank you," Brennan said, exhaustion clear in her voice – sleep still wasn't coming easily.

She went home and showered, and then called Booth.

"Did you get him?"

"Yeah, we did. You alright? You sound exhausted."

"I am, but I'm fine." She paused. "Would you like to meet me at the diner in ten?"

"Bones, you need sleep…"

"Please?" She pressed.

"Okay. This one time." She could almost hear his smile.

* * *

Brennan was waiting for Booth, shifting nervously. She relaxed as soon as he appeared though, straightened, and smiled.

He saw her and his face lit up, sliding into the seat facing her. She watched as he picked up the menu; she reached over and gently pushed it down with a finger.

"I already ordered," she tried her best seductive look. Booth raised an eyebrow. Her efforts failed and it turned into a childish grin.

They discussed the case for a bit.

"I find their life unhealthy and depressing," Brennan said.

"Very materialistic," Booth agreed."Not a lot of importance or purpose."

Their order arrived; the waiter put down a sole sundae with two spoons. Brennan watched Booth's reaction anxiously. He grinned at her, taking a spoonful.

"You," he watched her lick the ice cream off his spoon, "Never fail to surprise me."

"So, this is good?" She asked, hopeful. He responded with his lips on hers, and Brennan felt delighted. She had gotten it right – she had proved her affection. She kissed back hungrily, gripping his collar and pulling him closer.

"I know why I'm always so flustered around you," She breathed into his mouth. "I know why I act like I do. Because you're too damn delicious."

"Can we get this to go?" Booth's voice had gone down an octave and sounded strained.

She grinned in reply.


	4. Crave

**I am aware Fruit Loops and Craft Dinner are spelled wrong.**

**Also, shout out to HappyDaysAreHereAgain. Seriously, without her, an extremely interesting bus ride, and that time we didn't actually get to play any music, this chapter would've never existed.**

**Finally, thanks to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favourited. You rock!**

It was that time in the morning where nothing moved: every living thing was in the deepest stages of slumber. The only light came from the hall; it lit up the man and woman splayed out on the bed.

Brennan's eyes were open. She counted to three and then swung her legs around, standing up. Booth was on the verge of waking up – he noticed the slight shift of weight and heard her footsteps as she rounded the edge of the bed and neared her escape.

With a surge of effort, Booth launched himself in her direction, moving only from the waist up. Brennan was aware of two arms wrapping themselves around her waist – first her breathing hitched in fear, and then she giggled as Booth dragged her back towards himself.

"Booth-" She resisted the touch, struggling, yet she allowed him to push her back down on the bed. He loomed over her with innocent brown eyes; she gave him her best unimpressed expression.

"Booth-" She tried again, a bit more seriously, but he interrupted her with a long dirty kiss. She felt every inch of her body immediately wake up. She fought it and pushed him up, giving him a stern look. He ignored this particular glare and started to place kisses on her neck.

"Mmm?"

"Get off of me; I need to get to work!" She said. He ignored this as well, hands teasing at the edge of her panties.

"Booth!" She failed at sounding displeased but slapped his hands away. He recoiled, reconsidered, and then mussed her hair with reconciled passion.

"I'm going to be late as it is," she warned him.

"So what? Screw work," he offered, nuzzling her shoulder.

She sighed. "Honestly," she muttered, but then cupped his face and gave him a fierce kiss. He grinned.

"Now that's what I'm talking about," and he allowed Brennan to roll him onto his back, lips never parting. Just then, her stomach growled. Both parties stopped what they were doing and stared at each other.

"Someone's hungry," his voice held so much affection that Brennan shivered. Not trusting her voice, she just smiled in reply. Booth's hands slid under her shirt and rested on her belly. Brennan's head dipped and rested in the nook between his shoulder and neck contentedly. They stayed like that for a bit, aware of nothing but each other. After a bit Booth wrapped his arms around her and settled her gently down on her back.

"Let me get you something to eat," he murmured, taking the time to kiss her belly softly. Brennan watched as he got up and walked away, pausing at the door.

"Any suggestions?" He asked, turning back to her, silhouetted by the light. She smiled a little childishly.

"What?" He asked.

"It's just…" She trailed off. "I've been craving a strange combination of food lately."

He cocked an eyebrow.

"Fruit Loops… and carrots?" She asked hopefully.

"Fruit Loops… and carrots?" He repeated. She nodded.

"I believe my hormones due to the growth in my womb are causing me to crave Fruit Loops and carrots. Baby carrots, to be precise."

Booth nodded warily. "Fruit Loops and carrots…" he said thoughtfully to himself as he made his way to the kitchen.

* * *

Brennan got to the lab a little later and was hastily putting on her lab coat when Cam walked in. The pathologist noticed how flustered and distracted her friend was. She cocked her head, observing Brennan's struggle.

"Please forgive my lateness," Brennan felt the need to hurriedly explain herself.

"You are excused," Cam said slowly, narrowing her eyes, "Since you're on time every other day of the year. Is something the matter?"

Brennan froze. "Everything's fine. Why?"

"No reason, you just seem…" Cam trailed off and Brennan stared at her expectantly.

"Never mind," she waved a hand in dismissal of the discussion. "The body just arrived."

"Perfect," Brennan put on gloves and offered some to Cam as they walked out of the anthropologist's office. Brennan made her brisk way to the access of the platform, taking in the scene without breaking stride. Cam was right behind her.

The FBI forensics team was busy placing a very rusty old ice cream truck in the center of the opening. Brennan walked over, addressing a tech.

"This is the body found yesterday morning, is it not?" She asked. The technician nodded.

"You haven't compromised the remains, I presume?"

"No, ma'am." There was a hint of sarcasm audible.

It passed over her. "Very well." Brennan dismissed him and watched as two others opened the back doors. The smell of putrefied flesh hit her like a tsunami, but she climbed in, unfazed. Cam joined a few seconds later, wrinkling her nose.

"I don't think I'll ever eat from an ice cream truck again," Cam commented. Brennan ignored her, already examining the cadaver which was sprawled in the back of the vehicle.

"Judging by the pelvis, our victim is female. Accordingly, the skull indicates the same."

"There isn't much flesh," Cam observed. "I'll spare what I can."

"I believe she was a teenager, but x-rays will confirm."

"Cause of death?" Cam asked. Brennan peered a little more closely. "Not that I can see. I'll be able to know more after the bones are cleaned."

Hodgins ran up and started to collect samples, overhearing their conversation. "How long has she been dead?"

Both Brennan and Cam took a step back and out.

"Judging by decomposition, I'd say about two weeks," Brennan answered. Hodgins continued to collect samples. Cam turned to Brennan.

"Clark is this case's intern," she said. Brennan took off her gloves.

"Very well. Please have him clean the bones, I'll join him afterwards." She headed towards Angela's office.

"Angela?" She asked at the door.

"Over here, sweetie," Angela called from near the Angelatron. Brennan made her way over.

"Something up?" The artist asked. Brennan shook her head.

"I had a question." The anthropologist said, sitting down next to her friend. Angela nodded encouragingly.

"Have you ever…" Brennan started hesitantly. "Have you ever just had a really strange obsessive craving?"

Angela grinned. "Yeah. When I was pregnant with Michael Vincent I had an enormous craving for Craft Dinner and shrimp. It drove Hodgins crazy. Why do you ask? It's not like you're pregnant or anything."

Brennan chuckled softly. "No, of course not. I think I'm just ovulating and having strange cravings due to hormone imbalances. Well, thank you." Brennan said and got up to leave.

"Bren?" Angela stopped her at the door. Brennan turned to her.

"Yes?"

"What are you craving?"

Brennan grinned. "Fruit Loops."

Angela grinned back.

* * *

An hour later found Booth and Brennan off to question the owner of the ice cream truck. Albert MacDermid lived in a bungalow in Virginia; upon answering his door they discovered he was one of _those_ guys: wispy greying hair, sunken eyes, yellowed teeth and a potbelly. The unkempt house smelled of beer and tobacco.

Booth and Brennan shared a look as they followed him inside.

"I wouldn't let my kid buy ice cream from this guy," Booth muttered under his breath. Brennan shot him an agreeing look.

"Sit down, won't ya?" The man plopped down in a rocker. Both the agent and the anthropologist smiled politely but remained standing.

"We understand you're the owner of this truck?" Booth offered a picture. MacDermid had taken an interest in Brennan and barely glanced at the picture.

"Why don't you let the purty Miss do the talking, Angel Face?" MacDermid wheezed; both Booth and Brennan were uncertain who he was referring to by Angel Face. Brennan felt Booth tense beside her.

Sensing the negative vibes, Brennan stepped in. "Answer the question, please."

"Yeah, sure," he shrugged. "'Fore the 'conomy fell I used to give ice cream to all the kids."

Booth's voice was cold. "And you were charged with pedophilia on many accounts. They were all eventually dropped. Care to explain?"

MacDermid's gaze flicked over to Booth. It was stony.

"The kids would try to come in back and steel some ice cream. People saw them come out of the back o'the truck and me getting all angry."

"Mmm, well, that explains a lot, doesn't it, Bones?"

MacDermid's eyes were slitted. "Why? What happened?"

"The remains of a fifteen year-old girl were found in your truck yesterday." Brennan said.

MacDermid sat back and closed his eyes completely. "I haven't been near that truck in years. Its current state is testimony enough."

"Do you know who had access to it?"

He shrugged. "Many people knew where it was."

Booth nodded and gestured that they should go. MacDermid rose with them.

"'Bye now, don't hesitate to come give Albie here a visit once in awhile, darling, you make everything brighter." He drawled towards Brennan. Booth put a hand on her shoulder blade and ushered her out, physically putting himself in between MacDermid and Brennan. She grinned in amusement.

"What?" He asked in defense when he noticed her grin. Brennan shook her head.

"Nothing," she said. He raised an eyebrow.

"You're fiercely protective," she relented.

"And?"

"And nothing. It was just an observation. I find it endearing and charming."

He pulled away from the curb. "Compliment?"

"Yes."

"Lunch?"

"Sure."

* * *

Brennan frowned at the menu.

"Still craving Fruit Loops, aren't you?" He observed. She gave him a sheepish grin.

"Yeah. I guess I'll just have my usual." They ordered and allowed the waitress to take their menus. After she'd left, Booth looked intently at Brennan.

"Bones?" He asked.

"Yes?" She was reorganizing her cutlery. When he didn't answer after a second, Brennan got the hint that the tone was more serious. She looked up.

As usual, she was startled by the intensity and passion of his eyes.

"Yes?" She repeated.

"What are we?"

The bluntness of his question took her by surprise. She blinked at him.

"What are we?" He went on to explain. "What terms describe our relationship?"

She opened her mouth. "Well-" But she topped there. What exactly _were_ they?

"Exactly," Booth sounding displeased. She cocked her head at him.

"Well, I like you very much, and I hope you feel the same. We've been partners, and consequently very close, for many years." She started, and realizing this wasn't having any effect, stopped. She put a hand over his.

"Why do we need a definition? We have each other, nothing else matters."

He smiled faintly. "I guess you're right."

She returned the smile and their food arrived. They were preparing to take the first bite when her cell rang.

"Brennan."

"Angela's facial reconstruction got a hit off of missing persons," Cam said. "Valentine Fitzgerald. She's been missing since last Tuesday."

"That corresponds with time of death."

"Exactly. Clark's started his examination if you'd like to join."

"Yeah, I'll be right there." Brennan flipped shut her phone and turned to Booth.

"Valentine Fitzgerald."

"The vic's name?"

Brennan nodded. "I need to get back to the lab."

"After we eat." He watched her push her food around with her fork listlessly. "Or, after I eat."

* * *

Back at the lab, Brennan joined Clark.

"Good day, Mister Edison," she greeted.

"Doctor Brennan," Clark replied.

"Let us begin."

Clark nodded and they began to observe the skeleton, bone by bone, recording everything they found. He noticed that she was rather distracted.

"Something up, Doctor Brennan?" He asked as she observed the lumbar vertebrae. Brennan shifted and set down the bones.

"No, no, back to work," she insisted. But once again, Clark noticed something was off. He caught her staring hungrily at the sternum.

"Doctor Brennan…?" He implored. Brennan shook her head.

"What? Yes, sorry."

Clark put down the magnifier, raising both eyebrows skywards and refusing to continue. Brennan stared at him, considered ordering him back to work, and then sighed.

"I can't stop thinking about Froot Loops. And carrots."

He blinked. "Pardon?"

"It's not too hard to comprehend, Mister Edison, especially being as smart as you. I have an unbearable craving for Fruit Loops. And carrots. Due to extreme hormone unbalances."

Clark swallowed. "I could've lived without knowing that."

For some reason, this amused Brennan. "Do you find talking about hormones with women awkward, Mister Edison?"

Clark stared at her. "Uh…"

"Is it because it implies menstruation?" Brenan huffed. "The naiveté of men these days."

Not believing his ears, he watched as Brennan returned to work.

"Well?" She asked him, and he shook his head.

"Right. Work."

And work they did. Brennan left the lab early, informing Clark that they'd examine the skull the following day as there was no pressing need to since they had no lead. Booth was already at home when she arrived.

He was watching TV but heard her come in and got up to greet her at the door.

"I'm exhausted, have an insane unsatisfied craving, and all I would like is a shower, a warm dinner, and sleep." She warned him as she took off her shoes. He smiled and helped her take off her coat.

"I'm serious."

"I know." He grinned.

"Nothing you can do will change my-" He interrupted her again, meeting her lips with a furious passion. He slammed her up against the door and she responded willingly, kissing him back.

"Dammit," she said uncharacteristically as they parted for breath.

"What?" He whispered into her mouth.

"You are irresistible. It angers me sometimes."

He kissed her again. She slapped his shoulder playfully.

"You know you have that effect!" She accused. "That's just-"

She never finished her sentence.

* * *

Later, when they were lying in bed silently – but satisfied – Brennan curled up to Booth and started tracing circles on his chest.

"You can be quite manipulative. Did you know that?"

"I vaguely remember being called that once, yes."

She harrumphed and flopped onto her back. "Your control over me does not seem healthy."

He smiled that smile and leaned over to kiss her. She giggled and smacked him with a pillow, slipping out of bed.

"Where are you going?"

"To prepare my clothes for tomorrow." She replied as she tied her bathrobe. She didn't hear him follow her. She felt him wrap his arms around her and press against her. As usual, she stopped what she was doing and batted down the butterflies that were raging in her stomach. When she had calmed down enough, she continued to organize her overnight bag with Booth wrapped around her, the latter peering over her shoulder.

"You're cute," he said, kissing her hair.

"How so?" She said, grinding her teeth and determined not to let him distract her.

"You pack an overnight bag," he murmured. She gave him a confused sideways glance.

"Cute people can't pack overnight bags?"

"No, not that kind of cute. The little-kid kind of cute. Most people don't pack overnight bags when staying at their lover's."

She frowned. "I don't see how anything else could work."

He chuckled. "You could just permanently leave some clothes here."

She didn't respond for a long time. "I'll take that into consideration. Now, I need to go shower."

He grinned, pulling the bathrobe down to expose her shoulder. "I can help with that."

* * *

The next morning Brennan found it extremely difficult to get out of bed, which was odd, because she had always looked forward to work. It had been her life, and it meant seeing Booth and the team. But now she had Booth lying next to her, and all she wanted to do was curl up against him.

This was not reality, however, and with a heavy heart she went through with her morning routine.

She got to the lab at her usual early bird time. Yawning, she started to go over the skeleton again. She picked up the hyoid, which had obvious fractures on it. "Asphyxiation," she murmured to herself. She picked up the skull. "Signs of hemorrhaging." She frowned in concentration. Brennan was excitedly examining other indicators when Cam poked her head into the bone room. She opened her mouth to say something.

"Smothering!" Brennan whipped around and exclaimed to the pathologist. The latter blinked.

"Yes! I was just about to say that." Cam walked up.

"Hemorrhaging on the inside of the skull," Brennan explained. "And a strained hyoid. She was smothered from behind."

"I found fibers in the throat. Hodgins is examining them now."

Brennan set down the bone. "The poor girl," she said. Cam nodded.

"I have more."

Brennan turned to her. "Remember Andy Helms? Our main suspect for the case that involved the two girls, 16 and 17, found smothered in their beds?"

"There was no bone, I wasn't too helpful. But I do remember. You don't think…"

Cam shrugged. "We think what the evidence tells us."

"Did you tell Booth?"

Cam eyed Brennan. "He wasn't too thrilled."

* * *

Clark was on his way to the bone room which required him to pass by Brennan's office when he heard the latter. He recognized his mentor and Agent Booth's voices. Not that this wasn't normal, but Clark slowed down anyway. Their subject of choice was interesting.

"We didn't get him last time; we'll get him this time." Brennan reassured.

Booth exhaled. "Yeah. I guess."

There was a pause. "Did you get them?"

"I have a job as well," Booth replied.

"Booth!" she whined.

Clark stopped at the doorway. What was that in her voice? Affection? Towards Booth? Clark's mind stalled. Was that _affection_ affection?

_Oh Dear God it was about time._

He peered into the office. Both of them were grinning, faces inches away from each other. Clark's jaw gaped.

Booth pecked Brennan on the lips. "Alright. How about we go question this sonavabitch and then stop by to get groceries?"

Realizing they were headed this way, Clark stumbled backwards, trying his best to be nonchalant as he turned away.

Booth and Brennan passed him.

"Doctor Brennan?"

Brennan turned around. "Yes?"

"Doctor Hodgins got his results. Wool."

She nodded. "Thanks." With that, she joined Booth and the two walked out, leaving Clark to stare wide-eyed after them.

* * *

Brennan noted Booth's taught face and tense hands as he drove.

"Booth?"

"Yes?"

"Is there something wrong?"

He tensed further and she persisted.

"This guy is the lead suspect in the huge Davison case. The guy probably took these girls by surprise, raped them, and slaughtered them. He stole daughters away from people, took lives prematurely…" He trailed off.

Her eyes softened and her tone was sympathetic. "And you find immediate connection with our daughter or son-to-be. It's perfectly natural."

He grumbled in reply, looking out the window. Brennan smiled to herself and put a hand on his arm.

"If he's the murdered in our case, you'll catch him! You must believe that."

He looked at her and nodded. They got out of the car and made their way to the interrogation room. Without another word between them, Booth headed into the room where Andy Helms waited, and Brennan into the adjoining.

Booth wasted no time.

"That made of wool?" He snarled, referring to his coat.

Andy Helms narrowed his eyes. "Polyester fleece, actually."

Booth shot flames with his eyes. "Where were you, Andy, the night of Monday before last?"

Helms yawned. "Surely not where you think I was. Otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation, would we?"

"Just answer the question."

"I was at a bar."

"Which?"

"Peggy's."

"With?"

"Myself."

"Can anyone account for this?"

Helms shrugged. "Maybe."

Booth seethed. "I really don't like your attitude."

The suspect ignored this. "Now, do you have anything actually valid against me or can I go?"

Brennan inhaled. They didn't have anything concrete to link Helms yet.

Booth stared him down before exiting and rejoining Brennan.

"We need more." Booth said.

"I know," she agreed. "I'll start looking right away."

They started towards the door, and Brennan hesitated.

"You know what would really help my concentration skills? …"

* * *

Clark was patiently awaiting Doctor Brennan, having been notified of the urgency that they find something. He observed the bones without picking them up, and was growing bored when the expected walked in.

Clark glanced upwards and faltered. Nonchalantly, Brennan plopped down two grocery bags in the corner of the bone room. Clark blinked at the bags as Brennan joined his side, snapping on gloves.

"Mister Edison?" She asked. Clark tore his eyes away from the incredibly out-of-place groceries.

"We must be incredibly focused to be able to solve this case. No distractions," she said firmly.

He nodded. "Of course," and with that, both scientists began to study the skeleton, retreating into their own worlds.

Though, more often than not, Clark would find Brennan staring longingly towards the bags, obviously dreaming about what was inside. This distracted Clark, and he would watch her uncomprehendingly for a few seconds before clearing his mind.

It became quite apparent that Brennan was unable to concentrate. She clearly needed whatever was in the bag, and Clark relented.

Sighing, "Doctor Brennan?"

"Yes?" She barely looked at him. He paused.

"I know it's against protocol, but would you like to have whatever is in those bags?"

Brennan blinked for a moment, surprised and hesitant.

"But… Jeffersonian rules…"

"If it makes you more able to do this effectively, screw them," Clark said. She stared at him, still undecided, but weakened.

"Okay. If you say so," she said, rather cheerfully, and waltzed over to the bags.

He tried very hard not to gape in amazement as she pulled out Fruit Loops and baby carrots. She began hungrily munching away.

_Who was this, and what had they done to Brennan?_ Incredibly, her face lit up and she nearly sprinted back to the bones.

"This angle and these fractures on the hyoid suggest something made of wool was pressed against her throat and pulled backwards, causing both the smothering and the strained hyoid, right?" She didn't wait for a response. "However, the angle at which it is fractured is unusual, suggesting it was someone left-handed, by the odds."

"And?" he barely managed, watching his mentor stuff his face while making incredible observations.

"Andy Helms is right-handed." She said triumphantly, and in that moment, chewing on a baby carrot trimmed with Fruit Loops, she seemed to glow.

Realization slapped him hard across the face, and before he was able to surface from this blinded transfixed state, Brennan had already left.

It made so much sense! Her and Agent Booth, the abnormal craving that went above and beyond menstruation… _Brennan was pregnant!_

Once again, it was like an explosion in his head. The enormity of it was… great, actually. This was wonderful news!

* * *

That night, Booth and Brennan got home late but satisfied. Thanks to Brennan's memory – she remembered one of the teens they'd questioned at the victim's school had been left-handed – the case was closed. The student had been extremely frustrated that the victim had gotten the lead role and had smothered her from behind with a costume.

Exhausted yet content, they set down their things and shrugged off their coats, slumping onto Booth's living room couch. Booth got himself a beer and her some water and sat next to her.

They stayed there in silence, neither of them feeling the need for words.

"It's funny," Booth commented, "how this went."

Brennan sipped at the cold drink. "What do you mean?"

"Well, we immediately jumped to huge possibilities," he started.

"We went where the evidence told us to go."

"We thought the perp was a pedophile and then a serial killer," Booth said bluntly.

"It ended up just being a kid who was jealous because Valentine got the lead role in _Othello_," she finished.

"Exactly," Booth said and the room fell silent as they pondered this.

"What is this, Bones?" He took a swig of beer. "What are we doing?"

Brennan sighed. "This again."

He nodded, leaning forward, eyes exploring hers.

"Why must you define this, whatever this is?" She met his gaze.

He shrugged. "I'm not sure. It's what I do. I've learned life becomes easier when I get your definition of things though."

"I'm with your child, for a start."

He put a hand up to stop her, leaning closer. "I know, I know. But, what do you feel? What is this, me, to you?"She swallowed his face tantalizingly close. _Wait…_ She narrowed her eyes, grinned, and pulled away.

"You're doing it again!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said innocently, approaching again. She pushed him back.

"The irresistible thing!" She exclaimed and he continued his little act. She rolled her eyes and let him come closer, turning a little more serious as she studied his lips. She seemed to shrink, sliding under him, and soon enough her lips and his collided softly. Her body flooded with desire and she responded, grinding her hips against his. He groaned.

"This can't keep happening," she panted.

"Sex?" He asked, incredulous.

"No, not that." She blushed. "I have to be able to resist you to a certain point."

"Why?" Distracted.

She sighed, closing her eyes and giving him a brief kiss. "I don't think it's a good thing for you to have this advantage."

"I'm not that cruel, mean, or evil. Trust me; I'll put it to good use." He blew into her ear. She moaned, composed herself, and shook her head, putting two firm hands on his ruffled shirt and pushing up, forcing him to look her in the eyes.

Booth was about to complain and noticed they had become serious. He searched them, waiting patiently.

"If it's okay with you, I'd like to take you up on your offer and bring some clothes over this weekend. Permanently."

His eyes lit up and he grinned, diving for her mouth. Brennan wrapped her arms around his neck and they rolled over, crashing to the floor, never giving it a second thought.

Brennan showed Booth what he meant to her – all night long.


	5. Someday Soon

About halfway through the trip, Brennan started to pound back the drinks. No, not alcohol, just regular old water bottles. Anyway, it didn't really matter what it was she was drinking; Booth was more baffled by how and why.

His multiple glances over at her provided nothing more than an amusing and fascinating scene. Eventually Brennan caught him in the act, eyes narrowing into their usual Brennan glare. She lowered the plastic bottle and wiped an inelegant hand across her lips, staring at the side of her partner's face as Booth's gaze had made a hasty retreat back onto the road.

"Is there a problem?" She asked indignantly. He met her eyes very briefly.

"Nah," He said rather unconvincingly. Brennan raised an eyebrow and took another sip.

"Just… Why all the water?"

"I feel I should stay hydrated for the baby's sake."

"I can, uh, see that."

"Do you disapprove?" She dared him to say so.

"No. I think that's great, just all the water is going to come back and hit you real hard." He smirked.

She sat back defiantly. "I have a very fine renal system and a very healthy sphincter at the end of it."

"I don't question it."

"This recommended water intake will only have positive results."

"I don't question that either."

"You're mocking me."

"Am not."

"Are so." She took another sip.

"Prove me wrong, then." He cocked an eyebrow at her. Her stomach clenched.

"You're on."

* * *

Booth pulled onto a gravel drive and headed deeper into the forest. Five minutes later and the narrow forest road opened into a clearing full of navy blue FBI jackets. Booth rolled down his window and was told to park. The other team members' cars were among the ones already there.

Brennan hopped out and looked around, shielding her eyes against the sun. Booth joined her a second later, swatting at flies with both hands.

"Where's the body?" Brennan asked, as none seemed to be in sight. An FBI tech turned and pointed down a hiking trail. Unfazed, Brennan started in the direction pointed and Booth groaned.

"It's good exercise," She encouraged as they started down the hiking trail.

"I'm wearing FBI regulation clothing," He complained. "And one of the nicer outfits, at that."

Brennan gave him a quick glance. "Hmm. It is one of your more attractive shirts."

"You rate my shirts?"

"And your ties."

Booth pushed a branch out of the way. "This isn't in my job description."

"It can't be much farther now."

"My shoes! No, these are my Rockports!"

"There!" Brennan ignored him, pointing. They'd come to a hilltop that led up to a ravine. People clustered in the valley below. Brennan sped up a bit as she made her way down, Booth not far behind.

Cam, Hodgins, and Angela were standing near the banks of a large pond. Brennan couldn't hear what they were saying over the noise of the waterfall that crashed over the ravine. Both Booth and Brennan stopped for a moment at the sight before nearing the remains and the Jeffersonian team.

Brennan snapped on gloves; Booth kept his distance. "These were found this morning, rising to the surface, by an anonymous phone call." Cam greeted as Brennan crouched beside her. Angela, grimacing, stood taking pictures, and Hodgins was at the water's edge, collecting samples and rambling on to the unfortunate tech stuck with assisting him.

"The remains are almost just skeletal," Brennan started.

"They're finding some traces of tissue in the water," Cam interjected.

"We seem to be missing a femur." She said.

"Probably in the pond." Angela offered.

"On it," Booth called over to the divers.

"Judging by the pelvis, our victim appears to be male."

Brennan shifted from one foot to the other. "No clear fractures that I can see at the moment." She straightened and went next to Booth.

"I can't bring back the pond to the Jeffersonian." He warned before she had time to say anything.

"I only seem to need the femur the divers are searching for." Brennan observed the pond. Anyone could look at them and never guess they were now an item.

Both of them were thinking of this.

* * *

Half an hour later and the femur was finally recovered. Brennan did a quick check to make sure all was good and the team began to head out.

Booth and Brennan were some of the last few and they started their hike back unaccompanied. Brennan blazed ahead and Booth lumbered behind, complaining.

Brennan stopped, waiting for her partner. He was very slow, she noted. She began to pace and jump up and down. Booth turned the corner and raised an eyebrow as he saw her.

"Fine. I do have to pee," She admitted. Booth grinned and was about to gloat before Brennan shot him a glare and started off again.

They stayed together this time, either Brennan had slowed down or Booth had sped up. She was eager to get back to the car, and agitated at Booth's slowness.

"You could just go in the woods," Booth taunted. Brennan shot him a look of disgust.

"I'm a grown woman and I can make it back to town just fine."

"Right." He said in a tone identical to the one of earlier that day.

She set her jaw and balanced from foot to foot.

"Suit yourself." They continued on their way. She felt somewhat relieved when they got back to the car.

"Now just for that pesky forty minute drive." He said.

"I'll be fine." She replied firmly.

"Or you could…" He tried to tempt her.

She rolled her eyes. "Just get in the freaking car and drive."

Booth obliged and they made their way home, Brennan shifting uncomfortably every few minutes. When they finally got back to the lab, Brennan headed straight to the restroom and then came back to her office, where Booth was.

"See." She said. "No problem at all."

He shrugged. "If you say so. Could've easily have been dealt with before."

She came up to him, faces inches away. She stared hard into those brown eyes. "Easily? Easily?" She shook her head. "Nothing happens easily, these days."

She then left, leaving behind a very awkward-faced Booth.

* * *

"Mister Bray," Brennan swiped her access card and climbed the stairs up to the platform. "Tell me, how has your day been?"

Wendell gave his mentor a good look. "It's been going just fine. How about yours?" He added, politely.

Brennan gave him a look. "We are here to work, Mister Bray, not chit chat."

Wendell looked slight taken aback. "But you asked me…" He trailed off.

Brennan bent over the bones, beginning her examination. "Angela informed me that asking how someone's day has been is an informal way to greet someone and express general care."

"Sure, Doctor B, just it's usually used to started conversations."

"Oh. Well. I'll keep that in mind, thank you. And if you were wondering, I've had better days."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Would examining the bones help cheer you up?"

She wasn't in a good mood and assumed the question to be mocking, but when she glanced up to reprimand, she saw him smiling. It lightened her mood ever so slightly.

"Why yes, it would." She grinned back. Wendell turned to the bones.

"Victim appears to be male, in his mid-thirties." He stated, and Brennan nodded her agreement. She cracked open the jaw, peering at the teeth.

"Dental x-rays could help with identification," She said, stripping of her gloves. "We'll continue to look for cause of death afterwards."

Wendell nodded and began to prepare the bones as Brennan exited the platform, heading into her office to do some paperwork, but she soon grew impatient and went to find Angela, longing her friend's company and some advice for her book.

The artist smiled as the anthropologist walked in. Brennan sat down on the couch next to her.

"Something wrong?" Angela asked.

Brennan shrugged. "Not really, just having a bad day. I find myself completely unable to do the task at hand."

"No reason?"

She shrugged again.

Angela sighed. "Yeah, happens sometimes."

Brennan was amazed at how well the artist could read her moods; how she knew when to stop asking questions and the right things to say. They were always on the same page.

Well, almost always.

Brennan suddenly felt incredibly guilty. She didn't know why she hadn't let Angela know about the pregnancy yet. She supposed she was waiting for the right time.

She opened her mouth to say it, Angela looked at her patiently. But for some reason, she just couldn't get it out. Flustered, the scientist rose and shook her head.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" Angela put a hand on her arm, which only seemed to upset Brennan more.

"I have to go work; I'll see you… later."

Angela watched as she walked briskly out the door. "Yeah, later."

* * *

Brennan speed-walked her way back to her office, head down the whole time. She nearly had a heart attack when Booth moved towards her, not expecting him to be there. He raised a cautious palm and Brennan's breath returned. She gave him a quizzical look.

"Alright, I see that you're mad at me." Booth started, "And I've been thinking. So I drove back here to tell you about what I've been thinking."

She raised her eyebrows with a hint of amusement.

"What you said before… Did you mean it? Do you really blame me for this? For…" He struggled for the right words, not finding them. "Knocking you up?"

She swallowed, draping her lab coat over her desk chair, running a hand through her hair. "No, I didn't. Just sometimes I get so tired of it."

He approached eyes sympathetic and kind. "But you do want the baby, right? And you do want me?"

She stared into his eyes and gave him a quick kiss. "Yes. More than anything." She assured.

He seemed to relax. "Good, 'cause I'm not going anywhere." He tucked a loose strand behind her ear. She grinned, leaning her forehead against his.

"Rough day, huh?" He asked. She nodded.

"Yeah. The hormones aren't helping."

Someone cleared their throat at the doorway, and the couple scrambled away from each other, turning away nonchalantly.

"Um, Doctor B?" Wendell asked.

"Yes?" She replied, straightening her shirt. Wendell hid a smirk.

"The x-rays are ready."

She nodded. He gave a quick look at Booth before walking away.

They looked back at each other, the moment of before having passed. She offered a small smile.

"So we'll talk later?" She asked. He nodded, and they headed separate ways.

* * *

Brennan coughed loudly, enough to make the smoker aware of the reason she was doing so. Booth exhaled slowly, fighting the urge to smack the woman he was trying to question. Jackie Thomas was sprawled out seductively on the couch, smoking a cigarette.

"Could you put that out?" Booth asked, more a demand than a question. Jackie rolled her eyes, but did as told, allowing the room's other occupants to breathe a little easier.

"You haven't talked to Jeremy in three years?" Booth picked up where they left off.

"That's right, honeybuns."

Brennan crossed her arms, staring at the suspect from where she stood, leaning against a bookshelf. Her body language shouted at the suspect to back off.

"No contact at all?"

The woman shrugged. "Facebook posts?"

Booth sighed in exasperation for what had to be the thousandth time that interview. "Alright. But I'm still watching you."

He had gotten up to leave when Brennan's cell ran.

"Brennan."

It was Wendell. "He was impaled by a nail. A rusty nail."

"Thanks," She flipped shut the phone. Booth stared at her.

"Later." She whispered, and Brennan gestured that they head towards the door. She paused in the entry.

"Bones?"

Ignoring him, she turned to the suspect. "Could I possibly use your washroom?"

A thousand and one.

* * *

Booth and Brennan decided to go for lunch on their way back into town.

Neither of them were all that hungry – they both knew there was something important to discuss, but neither of them wanted to be the first to bring it up.

Brennan called uncle first. "I was going to tell Angela about the baby, but I choked." She confessed. Booth watched her, realizing the conversation was serious

"We need to first tell the rest about us." Booth suggested. "One step at a time, Bones."

Automatically, one hand flew to her belly. She knew the bump wasn't there yet, and their secret was still safe, but she couldn't help but feel apprehensive. Booth realized and took her free hand in his.

"We're in this together." He soothed.

"I know," She sighed.

"So we're going to tell them soon? Not about the baby, but about us?"

"The sooner, the better." She nodded. He checked his phone.

"Good. I'm glad," He replied, leaning down to give her a quick kiss. "I've got to go, there's an issue with the land on which we found the body. See you tonight?"

She nodded again, smiling, and returned the kiss.

* * *

Truth was, Seeley Booth didn't want to drag Brennan back out here for a quite a few reasons, the main two being 1) Ever since MacDermid, he didn't trust older males around his girl and 2) the situation was a mess. The owner of the property wasn't handling the situation very well – and by very well, he meant waving a shotgun in the air and threatening the police.

Booth made record time getting there. He immediately talked to who was in charge, not impressed with how the situation was being dealt with.

"We have the area secured-"

Booth rolled his eyes and drew his gun. Ignoring that he sheriff was still talking, he walked away. "Agent Booth, this is not protocol-"

Booth continued to ignore him, heading up towards Merle Hordichuck's shabby house. The building seemed to be falling part, the picture oddly perfected by the unshaven, crazy-eyed old man swaying on the wraparound porch.

Booth stepped out from the cover of the surrounding forest, pistol aimed. Hordichuck caught the movement and pumped his own firearm, aiming right back.

"Get off of my land!" He screamed, stomping his foot.

Booth kept his cool. "Good day, Mister Hordichuck."

"Are you deaf!? Get out!"

"Lovely weather we've been having." He circled closer.

Hordichuck narrowed his eyes.

"We'll leave you alone soon, I promise, we just need you to answer a few questions."

"That's what the last two said, and they kept coming back!"

"The officers?"

"No, the two men."

Booth paused. "What two men?"

"I don't know! A pair of city folk that kept going near my waterfall! My damn waterfall!"

"Have they bothered you as of late?"

"No. They stopped coming about four months ago."

Directly aligned with the time of death. "Can you describe them?"

"Describe them? I can flat out give you their names! Jeremy Sweatt and Neil Wyman!"

Booth lowered his gun. "Thank you. We won't be a bother anymore."

He came back to a stunned sheriff, who had told his men to back off.

"Were you saying something?" Booth asked, all innocence.

* * *

Brennan came home to a bouquet of roses on her table, but no Booth. She smiled, touching their soft petals, before reading his note.

'_Sorry. Something came up. Have a good night, darling. B_'

He called her a little later.

"Hey," He said.

"Hi. Thanks for the roses," She said.

"Do you like them?"

He could imagine her smile. "They're beautiful."

"I thought so, too. Did your day end up a little better?"

"Yes, it ended on a much better note. Cam let me go early."

"That's good. I have news."

"Yes?"

"We got him."

Brennan wasn't expecting that. "What?"

"The perp. Neil Wyman. We got him. The two were headed for a walk in the woods when Jeremy tripped, impaling himself on an old fence. Neil panicked and dumped."

She didn't answer at first. "Well. Good work."

"You, too."

"I would say we should go celebrate at the Founding Fathers, but…"

He chuckled. "I'll be with you in a few."

She grinned. "Good. I was beginning to miss you."

"I love you, Bones."

She didn't hesitate. "I love you, too."


End file.
